


Everything Changes

by dramady



Category: Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-04
Updated: 2010-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-08 17:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cutting John's hair shakes the house out of its silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Changes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeck/gifts).



> Takes place PRIOR to season 2

The new house, the new _hiding place_, is quiet most of the time. Not that their house hadn't always been quiet, but there's a different kind of quiet this time.

Post-explosion quiet.

Very little talk, little to say to each other. And what they'd all say, they already know. _Be careful, watch your back, no one goes alone._

Nothing new. Just quiet.

It's oppressive, like the air before a thunderstorm and John finds his shoulders hunching with it as still he works on the unencrypting the files. Cameron patrols through the rooms of the house silently. Her scars are healing and she looks almost exactly the same.

They all look almost exactly the same.

When he hears muffled footsteps at the doorway to his bedroom, he looks up. Derek leans there, an arm behind his back and with a blank expression.

"What?" John finally asks when it's clear that Derek's not going to speak.

The hand appears from behind Derek's back and he's holding two things.

Scissors and electric clippers, the cord dangling from his grasp.

John straightens in his chair, going stiff and Derek smiles. "It's time," he says.

"For what?" Holding to the back of his chair, it's all John can do to keep from crawling out of it.

"Ditch the long hair. Part disguise, part keep me from cutting it off while you sleep."

"What?!" John's voice gets a little squeaky and he does finally rise. "What's wrong with my hair."

"It's too long and it's time for you to grow up."

"Grow up? What do you mean, grow up?" Managing to ball his hands at his sides, John looks over at his uncle.

Derek just smiles. "Soldiers can't have long hair. You said so yourself."

"When?!"

His free hand waves. "In the future." And he waves the clippers and scissors. "We can do it the hard way or the easy way."

John is smart enough not to ask what the hard way means, though it is on the tip of his tongue to shout for his mother.

Okay, so maybe it is time for him to grow up.

Swallowing hard, he nods. And he sits back down in his chair, though he scoots away from the computer. "You need a towel or it'll get all over everything."

Even to his own ears, he sounds resigned.

Derek drops the scissors and clippers into John's lap and fetches a towel, still wet from someone's shower, and he spreads it out on the floor behind John's chair. Leaning over the boy's shoulder he picks up the scissors.

John should flinch at the blades being so close to his face, but he doesn't. Instead, he closes his eyes.

Because he does that, he doesn't see the way Derek looks at him as he tilts John's hair back. He doesn't see the look in Derek's eyes when his uncle runs his fingers through John's hair, pulling a lock away from his head to cut it off.

But he does feel the tickle as the hair hits his cheek and falls. Something falling away. Something more than hair.

It's quiet but for the slight _shing_ of the scissors opening and closing. John's nose itches but he doesn't move except where Derek's hand guides his head. Forward, to the left, to the right.

Then he feels the rough hand over his scalp. He hears Derek plug in the clippers. And he hears the hum.

"Not too short," he finally says, turning to look up at his uncle. "Not bald."

Derek's face is inscrutable, but he nods, his thumb flicking the cover on the clippers up to a higher setting.

John turns back and closes his eyes again.

But there's a moment before he feels the clippers next to his head. Just as he's about to ask about it, he feels it. Slowly, the move from his scalp, back, starting in the middle, then the left, then the right.

After what is at most five minutes, he hears Derek shut off the clippers. And for a moment, he doesn't move and he doesn't hear Derek move. So he brushes his fingertips over his face; he can feel the small hairs all over him; he'll need to shower. Then he opens his eyes. No hair in them. His head feels different, cooler? That's hardly possible.

As he starts to brush off his neck, he feels Derek's hand on the back of of his neck. They linger for a moment, then they're gone.

For some reason, it makes John's skin heat. He itches all over.

Rising from his chair, he stands, turning, and he looks at his uncle, whose face he still can't read. "Well?"

It almost seems like Derek's startled out of himself and he shakes his head as if to clear it. "Yeah."

"It... looks alright?" John runs his hand over his head. It bristles under his palm and he feels more tiny hairs fall; they make him shiver.

"Yeah," Derek says, his voice sounding gruff, jerking his thumb toward the mirror. "Take a look. You look older, you look like--" But he cuts himself off.

John watches. Derek doesn't speak again, so he does as suggested, walking over to the mirror.

It's a shock. A real shock. He looks... totally different. And he sees Derek come up behind him. Speaking to his reflection, John asks, "is this how I look? In the future?"

His gaze far away again, Derek nods. "Almost exactly. Older, yeah, but... yeah."

"Is... is that why you wanted me to cut it? Derek?"

It's a moment, before Derek even responds. "I didn't think so. I was just tired of it. But--"

Slowly, he walks closer, John following his movements in the mirror. And Derek touches John's neck.

It's all John can do not to shiver because the touch is like nothing he's known before, far more intimate than it has a right to be. His gaze falls to the floor away from Derek's.

The touch is gone a split second before the voice comes from the doorway. "John, I--"

He looks up to see his mother staring, her mouth open.

"How do I look?" He asks softly.

And something in Sarah's eyes seems terribly sad for a moment before it's gone. "Like a soldier."

In the mirror, John meets Derek's eyes again before he looks back at his mom. "Guess that's pretty good, then?"

Her jaw set, she crosses her arms over her chest, shoots Derek a glare and turns and walks out. Turning, John looks at Derek, whose gaze meets his and locks.

"I don't think she likes it," John finds himself whispering.

"Her little boy's growing up and she knows what's coming. Can you blame her?" Derek asks, just as quietly and John watches as his uncle raises a hand as if to touch John's cheek before it falls away. "Go take a shower. I'll clean up in here."

Nodding, John turns and walks to the door before turning back. "Do I look like my father? Is that what's making you act so strange?"

Derek's head pops up from where he was bent over, brushing the hair from the chair onto the towel. "No," he said, nearly laughing. "Definitely not. God, definitely not. And I'm not acting strange."

"You are. So what is it?"

His smile fading, Derek looks away. "That's a conversation for a different time." And he mutters barely loud enough for John to hear. "Like when you're legal."

"What?"

Not even looking up, Derek just shakes his head. "Nothing. Go shower."

"Derek--"

A hand comes up. "No. Go shower."

"But--"

"_No_."

John stares for a moment before he goes.

In the house, the silence descends again. If possible, it's heavier than it was before. Somehow, John feels he knows less than he did. How's that possible? As he pulls his clothes off and starts the shower, he can still feel that look in Derek's eyes.

Under the water, he runs his hands over his shorn head. It does feel different. Different enough to warrant such a reaction? He has no idea. Too bad he looks older, since he doesn't feel any wiser.


End file.
